


Revelation

by Olivier_Mira



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bloodplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivier_Mira/pseuds/Olivier_Mira
Summary: Rai has been spending an awful lot of time with Raskreia lately and Franky gets a little paranoid. Okay a lot paranoid.





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> The good ship RaixFranky hit iceberg Raskreia in chapter 474. This was my attempt to process this disaster. M-21's character in this fic will make more sense if you read A Single Teacup first. Soundtrack: Coldplay, "Gravity" and "Fix You," U2 "Stay (far away, so close)."

Frankenstein repeatedly jabbed the buttons on the elevator, anxious to get _down_ as quickly as possible. It was important that he not let his anxiety spike any higher before he was in a safe space to do so. _Think: Calm. Fresh, clean linens. Teacups lined up in a glass cabinet. The ancient manuscripts in the Academy at Rome, which were catalogued by their placement underneath busts of Roman Emperors: Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero…_

These lower levels beneath his dwelling were designed to be as covert as possible. It wasn’t foolproof and he didn’t bother to kid himself about it: he knew very well that if his Master _really_ wanted to know what he was doing down there, he could easily find out. But if Raizel was anything, he was polite. His Master knew that Frankenstein desired privacy when he descended into these depths, so he was generally lenient about it. The only real exception was when Frankenstein went too far with _It._ But for the most part these days he was careful not to let his experimentation go astray, so as to upset his Master. That was the very last thing he wanted to do.

But today he wasn’t down here to meddle with the Dark Spear, though he could feel it clawing at the back of his mind. No, today he was simply down here because he was _freaking the fuck out_ and he didn’t want his Master to catch wind of it if he could possibly help it.

Because Raizel deserved to have a normal life. That’s what Frankenstein had spent centuries preparing for him. Especially now, considering his lifespan’s… uncertainty. He deserved a normal life, full of normal activities, like eating ramen and playing video games, and if his Master wanted to _go grocery shopping…_ then that was okay. Even if those places were so _filthy_ that Frankenstein could hardly stand the _thought_ of his Master in his _immaculate_ white coat pushing one of those _germ-infested carts…!_ It made his insides curdle. But it was okay. It had to be. It was what Master wanted. And if his Master wanted to do those things with… with _her…_ and not spend as much time with _him_ , as of late… Well. Frankenstein had to be okay with that, too.

He grasped his hair in his hands, yanking it into a ponytail in a futile attempt to clear his head. _Raskreia._ The same Raskreia who nearly gave him a literal heart attack by throwing a sword _straight through his Master’s chest._ Frankenstein would never forget that day for the rest of his life. If it hadn’t been for Gejutel’s quick thinking, Frankenstein would have hurled the Dark Spear straight through Raskreia, Nobles and their bullshit hierarchy be _damned_. It was only the fact that said sword just _happened to work_ in terms of restoring his Master’s life force that he _begrudgingly_ took Raskreia off his shit list. But still. Was there actually any good reason other than their idiotic Noble insistence on being overly dramatic that they couldn’t have discussed such a measure beforehand? Was there some reason everyone in creation seemed to be conspiring to give him constant anxiety attacks?

Sighing, he stepped off the elevator and pulled out the keys to the locked doors that lined the corridor to his private rooms. _A_ date. _That’s what they said. A_ date. _Something that most likely, Master has never had. A_ date _with_ Raskreia. _Was this some kind of joke?_ He knew his Master. He knew how literally Raizel took absolutely everything. _What was this actually about?_ Frankenstein was pretty sure this was what hell actually felt like. The Dark Spear had nothing on Erga Kenesis di Raskreia.    

A part of him knew very well that he was being irrational. Tao had reported back to him that nothing untoward had happened. It wasn’t like Raizel was suddenly packing up and moving back to Lukedonia without him. They had a _bond of blood._ That was hardly going to be erased by a single trip to the grocery store. Or a single Noble taking an interest in him. Even if said Noble was the Lord.

There was a name for this sort of behavior and Frankenstein knew it: he was downright _possessive_ when it came to Raizel. Granted, he had been told more than once that he had a bit of an obsessive personality. But not all of it was his fault. Not only had he spent centuries hyperfocused on his Master’s every need – polishing his cufflinks, ironing his shirts, figuring out precisely how long to steep his tea, down to a fraction of a second – but he had also _lost_ him once. Frankenstein had only recently been reunited with his Master after centuries of despair. And a part of him was still fearful that if he didn’t remain vigilant, Raizel would disappear again. Especially considering his current condition.

 _Get your shit together. This will only upset Master._ Frankenstein _refused_ to upset him over something so trivial, so juvenile. He knew Raizel could feel his acute anxiety and he was trying hard to keep a lid on it for that reason. If he could just keep himself busy for the next few hours, while he was with _her…_ he’d be fine.

But the never-ending parade of negative thoughts would not cease swirling through his mind. _What if this is real? What if Master has grown tired of this human life… this life_ with _a human… and he wants to return to Lukedonia for good?_ Frankenstein had given Raizel everything that it was possible for a human being to give, and then some. But… what if it wasn’t enough?

The truth that he’d been desperately trying to deny was that when it came down to it, Frankenstein knew that there were things Raskreia could give to Raizel that he could never provide. As much power as he had amassed, he had no family name, no ancestral weapon, no rightful place in Noble society. He might be able to meet them as an equal on the battlefield, but he would never meet them as an equal at the dinner table. Although outwardly he made a show of aggressively disdaining these ideals, inwardly, he agonized about it. The fear constantly plagued him that compared to his Master – the very pinnacle of grace and elegance – he, Frankenstein, came up decidedly short. Frankenstein was many things, but Lord of Nobles he was not.

And of course, the most obvious and possibly the most painful factor: Raskreia could provide Raizel with _an heir._ It wasn’t something that Frankenstein had ever even considered before, nor was it something that his Master had ever expressed a desire to pursue. But now, it just seemed so obvious, and Frankenstein was furious at himself for not thinking this through before.

It made a strange sort of sense that the Noblesse would require an heir. As agonizing as it was for Frankenstein to have to admit, he knew that despite his best efforts, his Master’s power was waning. Every day he used more and more of his life force just to keep up the illusion of normalcy. This was causing Frankenstein a tremendous amount of anxiety, but there was literally nothing he could do. What if Raizel had made some internal decision that it was time to pass on his legacy? While he might like to think he had a reasonable idea of the inner workings of his Master’s mind, frankly, there were times when Raizel’s decisions seemed completely arbitrary to Frankenstein. Who knew what he was really thinking? Even though he knew it was crazy, Frankenstein could not stop obsessively thinking about it.

He was so distracted that he almost missed the soft whirring sound behind him. Stopping and listening intently, he realized with dread: _someone had just descended the elevator._

Frankenstein panicked, rushing back through the series of locked doors. _Who could possibly…?_ He sent his mind out desperately, searching for enemies, purple flames leaping out of his skin. _If they’ve gotten this far, could they have already harmed Master? This is_ not _good! I’ve been distracted with this_ nonsense. _If this absent-mindedness has caused harm to my Master, I will never forgive myself!_

He sniffed the air. _That scent… wolves!_ Was he hallucinating? How could a werewolf get down here? That was lunacy! Most werewolves had the IQ of a jar of mayonnaise! How could they possibly have gotten past his security?

Then, abruptly, he stopped. It was a werewolf, all right. But it wasn’t an enemy. It was their very own werewolf, M-21. _What the hell?_

Frankenstein wrenched the final door open, nearly tearing it off its hinges. “M-21! Are you out of your thick werewolf skull?? I almost _killed_ you! What are you _doing_ down here?? And furthermore, how did you _get_ down here?”

M-21 shrugged, removing the hood of his gray sweatshirt. “Tao.”

Frankenstein made a mental note: _Murder Tao._ He slammed the heel of his palm against his forehead. _When did my house become a foster home for lost fledglings? I can’t_ deal _with this right now!_

“M-21. What exactly is it you _want??”_

Although for the most part Frankenstein liked M-21, he had a way about him at times that made you want to punch him straight through a concrete wall. There he stood, nonchalantly sipping soda through a straw, proffering a greasy bag from some disgusting fast food joint. “I got cheeseburgers. You want one?”

Frankenstein blinked. “What?”

“Me. You. Cheeseburgers. Yeah?”

The request was so out of the ordinary that for a moment, Frankenstein was actually speechless. “…M-21.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Was this actually happening?_ “Please tell me you did not have Tao hack my security to descend into my private sanctuary in order to share _your revolting food habits...!”_

“These aren’t revolting. They’re really good. Got bacon on ‘em and everything.” He continued to sip noisily through his straw. “I got them for me and Kentas, but he heard that Muzaka had been sighted nearby, so-”

Frankenstein had had it. “ _M-21._ If you don’t tell me what this is about _this instant,_ I am going to murder you on general principl-!”

But M-21 interrupted him. “Who do you think sent me down here?”

Frankenstein stopped. “What?”

M-21 gave him a pointed look.

_“Master??”_

“Got it in one.”

Frankenstein’s brain had stopped working. “Master sent… _you._ To check on… _me._ ”

M-21 nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was kinda weird, too? But seeing as you told me _the Master’s word is rule of law_ and all, well… Here I am.” He shuffled his feet from side to side, betraying his nervousness despite his initial display of bravado.

“I-” Frankenstein sighed, feeling drained. “Look, M-21, I appreciate it, I really do. I’m glad you listen to what he tells you to do. But I’m actually fine, see? You understand, right? Master and I have a bond. He can feel things that I feel. I’m just a little under the weather right now. That’s all. You can go back and tell him that. But really, I’m fine.”

Piercing gray eyes stared back at Frankenstein.

“M-21. You may go now.”

But he didn’t move. _Dammit._ Frankenstein had to hand it to M-21: he was stubborn as shit when he wanted to be.

M-21 lowered his drink, his chin jutting forward slightly. “Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t bullshit right now.”

 _“What?”_ Perhaps, Frankenstein thought, in hindsight, he had succeeded just a little too well in terms of helping M-21 with his self-esteem.

“You heard me. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not bullshit right now, and I will leave.”                                          

“M-21, I hardly think –”

“You sent us a 911. For no discernible reason. Now you’re so upset that he’s upset.”

Frankenstein winced.

“I’m no genius? But I know what being bullshit looks like. And…” M-21 paused, seemingly considering whether or not it was his place to continue along this line of thought. “Well. I also know a thing or two about being bullshit cuz a bunch of hoity-toity people show up acting like they suddenly give a shit about the person you – I mean – they show up on your home turf and just start doing whatever the fuck they want. Or something.”

Frankenstein stared. _He knows exactly what’s going on. This… kid I took in. How??_

“Thing is…” M-21 fished into the pocket of his gray hoodie. “I don’t know how you guys usually resolve this sort of thing? But in my book, this kind of problem requires cheeseburgers and cigarettes.” He pulled out what looked like a tobacco pouch. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want to? I know it’s not much and I’m nowhere near the best person for this. But since _he_ asked me, well… I had to give it my best shot.”

Frankenstein honestly had no response to that.

M-21 was already rolling a cigarette.

“Wait – don’t.”

M-21 raised his gray eyebrows.

“There’s a smoke alarm on this level. Come on.”

He grabbed M-21 by the elbow and dragged him back through the doors he had just exited and down the steps to the lowest level. _What the hell am I even doing?_

They came into the arena where the two of them had been sparring a good deal as of late. Frankenstein breathed a sigh of relief to finally be in a place where there were wards in place that would at least mostly mute his thoughts from the outside world. It was exhausting to have to police your thoughts all the time. He didn’t begrudge it of his Master, but at times like these, their bond was a heavy burden to bear.

Frankenstein steered M-21 up a winding set of stone stairs that lead to a small balcony overlooking the fighting area. He removed his suit jacket and sat on it with his back to the cold stone, thinking about how dusty it was up here and how he was going to have to sanitize everything he was wearing and then… he abruptly decided _to hell with it._ He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender and started laughing hysterically. Usually he reserved his fits of mad cackling for intimidating enemies, but this was neither full of rage nor full of mirth. It was simply exasperation at the absurdity of his situation at the moment.

“M-21. Get the hell down here and give me one of those revolting cheeseburgers already.”

“Sure.” M-21 alighted next to him and Frankenstein could tell he, too, was relieved. It mustn’t be easy to be put on madman duty.

Frankenstein couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he took a bite of the greasy burger anyway. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ he thought. Surprisingly, it actually tasted pretty good. Maybe he was hungry? He tried to remember the last time he’d eaten. Of course as an enhanced human he didn’t have to eat as often as normal humans, but skipping meals was probably not helping him right now.

They ate in companionable silence, for which Frankenstein was exceedingly grateful. _To think that I should be so far gone with this madness that Master has to send one of the kids down here to babysit me. How pathetic._

M-21 crunched up the brown paper bag containing their trash and then finished rolling the cigarettes. He passed one to Frankenstein who accepted it despite himself. They stood, walked over to the balcony, and M-21 lit them both.

As he inhaled, Frankenstein was filled with a surprisingly pleasant feeling. He tried to remember the last time he’d consumed tobacco. It seemed like centuries ago. With a jolt, he recalled something that he’d almost entirely blacked out. When his Master disappeared, he had gone through a dark period where he had tried anything and everything to dull the pain. Most drugs didn’t do much for modified humans, but he had ended up somewhere, Turkey, it might have been, and there was a device they had for smoking, what was it called, a hookah, and the fragrant smoke tasted a lot like…

“What the hell is in these cigarettes?” Frankenstein realized he was a lot more affected than he should have been after a few drags.

“Dunno. Tao makes them.”

Frankenstein coughed. _“What??”_

“It’s nothing hallucinogenic or anything. It’s just kinda like a regular cigarette would be for a human, but for enhanced humans. We smoke them all the time at w-” M-21 blushed and fell silent.

“Oh you _do,_ do you? I _see_.”

M-21 suddenly became very interested in whether his cigarette was burning perfectly evenly.

“Not on school grounds, I presume.”

“N-no. Of course not.”

Frankenstein exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. He was attempting to stop his hyperactive brain from going into overdrive about school rules, or leaping to the fact that he was now going to have to change his suit _and_ wash his hair after this little escapade. Nevertheless, he had to admit this was… nice. An inner part of him that had been tightly coiled started to gently unwind.

“So. Raskreia, huh?” M-21 was facing forward, gazing out toward the dark arena.

Frankenstein flicked ash from his cigarette. He could lie, but honestly, why bother?

“Yeah.”

“Tough luck.”

“Yep.”

They smoked in silence, a haze gathering around them. Frankenstein focused on the blaze of glowing red light consuming the paper between his fingers, wishing all of his complicated problems could be burned away so easily.

“For what it’s worth?” M-21 leaned back, blowing smoke straight up into the air. “I don’t think he’s like that.”

Frankenstein paused. “Like _what?_ ” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice and probably failed.

“Like them, I mean. All arrogant and smug with sticks up their asses. I mean, if he wanted to go back to that, he’d have done it already.”

Frankenstein snorted back a laugh. _Well, M-21 wasn’t wrong._ Lukedonians certainly did have sticks up their asses: special jewel-encrusted sticks in fact, with their damned ancestors’ names on them. And he was also correct that Raizel didn’t generally deliberate about things, unless it was about which perfectly pressed white shirt to put on in the morning. Normally he was strong and steady in his decision making, except… when he was lost. And that’s what worried Frankenstein. Was he even in a position to be able to tell if his Master were lost? There were just so many aspects of this that he still didn’t understand and it made him uneasy.

“He said something to me once, you know.” M-21 pinched what was left of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, carefully taking one last drag.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He thanked me for trying to protect him. Which, as you know, is ridiculous. I mean, next to him, I can do fuck-all. But he thanked me and then he said, ‘Frankenstein is the only one who has ever tried to protect me.’”

Frankenstein froze, still as a statue. _Master really said that? Well, I’ve tried, but alas…_ He turned to look at M-21, but his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain. Hissing, he dropped his cigarette, suddenly realizing that it had burned right through to his fingers. “I- I see,” he said, crunching it out with his foot.

M-21 shrugged, stubbing out his own cigarette. “Well, we’re down here. Shall we fight?”

“You sure you want to fight me right now, kid? I’m in a mood.”

“When are you _not_ in a mood?”

“Oh, you are _so_ dead!”

M-21 was clearly looking for a good thrashing, which was good, because Frankenstein was looking to give one. Fighting was what he did best. It calmed him. Relieved stress. Made him feel like he was in control, when there were so many aspects of his life in which he was anything but. M-21 was also improving, slowly but surely. His attacks were less telegraphed and he was getting more and more conscious in his werewolf form. This was good. _At least I’m able to help someone._ It didn’t make up for being completely powerless when it came to the person he loved the most, but it was something.

By the time they headed back upstairs, Frankenstein was feeling significantly better. Although he noticed that he was still resisting contacting his Master. Generally, they did these little check-ins at random times during the day, sending a tiny burst of energy down the channel of their bond, like _is everything okay?_ Frankenstein did it a lot, because, let’s face it: he was paranoid. Particularly after this last battle with the werewolves, so much of which they had to fight separately, which was incredibly distressing for Frankenstein. But Raizel never minded the little nudges, always sending back: **_Yes, Frankenstein, it’s okay. Everything is fine._**

It was disconcerting to have to stop himself from making contact, especially because he knew his Master must have been significantly concerned to have sent M-21 after him. But he just couldn’t do it yet. He needed to get clean and he needed time to think.

After depositing every single item of clothing into the laundry and brushing his teeth with lots of very minty toothpaste, he stood in the shower, letting the water rush over him, rinsing out his hair for the third time. _I can’t have Master catching me smelling like stale tobacco, that would be the worst…_

He stopped. Someone was there. Outside the shower door.

**_Frankenstein._ **

“M-Master!”

**_How long are you going to hide from me?_ **

The shower door opened and there stood Cadis Etrama di Raizel, naked as the day he was born, absolutely radiantly gorgeous, and Frankenstein almost _dropped dead._ “M-Master! I thought…”

But Frankenstein was having trouble thinking at all, because Raizel had just stepped straight into the shower and pressed him right up against the serpentine marble wall.

“You thought… what?” he breathed, his lips nearly touching Frankenstein’s.

“I thought… Raskreia!” Had all of this been a product of his mad delusions the entire time?

“She went back to Lukedonia.” He twirled a strand of Frankenstein’s wet blonde hair around his finger.

“S-she did?”

“Yes.”

“And… you’re staying here?” Frankenstein’s voice cracked, betraying him.

Raizel’s crimson eyes slipped a gear, from seductive to sad. “Is that what you thought? That I would go back with her to Lukedonia? And leave you?”

“Master, I… _Master!”_ Frankenstein gasped, catching Raizel before he fell forward. The perfect, god-like visage of his Master disappeared and the real Cadis Etrama di Raizel emerged. His eyes were haggard and hollow, his limbs thin and weak, and it was all he could do to remain upright. 

“Don’t you know? Frankenstein. You’re the only one who sees me how I truly am. You’ve always been the only one.”

Something broke inside Frankenstein. He knew he’d choke on his words if he tried to speak. Instead he wordlessly picked up his Master – _he’s so light, like a child, how did I let this happen? How did I let this_ happen! – and carried him out of the shower and over to his jacuzzi tub, which he always kept hot.

_Master. I’m sorry. I doubted you. I’m so, so sorry._

**_Frankenstein. It’s okay. Everything is fine._ **

They slipped into the warm water. Frankenstein cradled his Master gently in the crook of his neck, trying to hold back tears and failing. _It’s not okay. None of this is okay. I have failed you._

“That’s not true.” Raizel pulled back, taking Frankenstein’s shaking hands, his scarlet eyes intensely sincere. “Frankenstein. You’ve never failed me. Not once.”

“B-but…” His breath caught. “Y-you’re _dying_ , Master. You’re dying right here in my arms and I haven’t been able to do a _goddamned_ thing about it. I’m _useless,_ I’m _worse_ than useless!” Frankenstein felt like he was going to be sick.

As he had always done, Raizel began to push calm, support and reassurance through their bond. But this time, Frankenstein recoiled, as if burned. _“No!”_ He thrashed away from his Master and leaned over the edge of the tub, fearful he might start retching. _Don’t. Don’t give me anything. Don’t waste a drop of your life energy on me. I don’t deserve it._

Thin yet somehow still strong arms encircled him from behind. **_Frankenstein._** His mental tone was firm. **_You seem to be confused as to who gives orders to whom._**

 _Yes, Master. I’m sorry._ Frankenstein gripped the edge of the tub white-knuckled, trying to breathe. Raizel rested his head on Frankenstein’s broad back. Their closeness alone helped Frankenstein feel calmer.

 ** _Give me your hands._** Raizel reached up and grasped Frankenstein’s hands in his, pressing them against his heart. **_Breathe._** Raizel himself breathed deeply, in and out, and Frankenstein followed in sync with his Master. He could feel Raizel’s heartbeat, still strong.

_Still here._

**_Yes._ **

They stayed like that for several minutes, silently breathing together. Then Raizel put his lips to Frankenstein’s ear. “Frankenstein,” he whispered. “It doesn’t hurt me to love you.” 

Frankenstein turned around, put his head on his Master’s chest and wept. Not caring anymore about keeping it together, he clung desperately to Raizel and poured out the flood of intense emotions he’d been holding back. When it came down to it, he was _terrified_ of losing his Master. That terror gnawed at him incessantly, clawing at him in his nightmares, taunting him mercilessly in battle in the form of the condemning chorus of the Dark Spear. _Master, I’m afraid. I’m so afraid._

 ** _I know._** Raizel held him, his reassuring hand on the back of Frankenstein’s head, smoothing his hair. He sent his gentle, calming energy once more along their bond, and this time Frankenstein allowed it, shivering all over with sweet relief. It was the only time he ever truly felt at peace. Raizel softly kissed his forehead, letting his lips linger there.

“Frankenstein.” He pulled back. “Look at me.”

It was so hard to see his Master like this, but Frankenstein made himself do it. He didn’t want any illusions between them, especially not at the cost of Raizel’s diminishing life force. His Master’s eyes looked even sadder in their hooded, exhausted state.

“No matter how hard we try, we cannot bend the will of fate.”

Frankenstein felt a little of his fire returning. “Like hell I can’t. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

“You have not.” Raizel intertwined their hands once more. “You only think that you have. Each of us has our day that we shall go to Eternal Sleep. You have yours. I have mine. We are powerless against this.” 

“I cannot accept that.” Frankenstein gripped Raizel’s hands tightly, then immediately lessened his strength, remembering his Master’s frailty with a pang in his heart.

“Whether or not you accept fate will not stop its progress.”

“I don’t care. I’m still going to fight to protect you with everything I have.” Frankenstein brought his Master’s fingers to his lips and kissed them, pledging his loyalty anew.

“I know you will.” Raizel closed the distance between them once again. “But Frankenstein. Acceptance can also be a blessing, you know.”

“I-” Frankenstein was about to argue when he realized that _his Master had just wrapped his legs around him under the water_. Oh. _Oh._

“We could die tomorrow, you and I.” Raizel was gazing at him with misty red eyes. If it didn’t feel completely blasphemous for Frankenstein to refer to his Master this way, he’d call them _bedroom eyes._

“But… But Master. You’re in such a weakened state. I don’t want…”

“Then I’ll just have to ask you to be _gentle_ with me.”

Frankenstein’s entire being set on fire. Purple eyes met red, matching their glowing intensity. He swung his Master around, gently pressing him against the edge of the tub. Their lips met and their connection electrified, crackling like a lightning storm. Raizel deepened the kiss, pulling at Frankenstein’s hair, which he _loved,_ God, he had _missed_ this. Although his Master was the epitome of poise and grace with a teacup, with his tongue he was _wicked._ Frankenstein grinned into the kiss, pausing to take Raizel’s perfect earlobe into his mouth. “Master,” he whispered into his ear. “Let me serve you.”

**_As you wish._ **

For Frankenstein, there was nothing in the world that gave him more satisfaction than serving his Master. If he could breathe the very air for him, he would do it. If anything he did - softly soaping Raizel’s hair, gently rinsing him off, burying him in the fluffiest of towels – if any of this prolonged his Master’s life for a millisecond, it would be worth it. He carried Raizel into his bedroom ever so carefully, as if he were the world’s most precious treasure, because to Frankenstein, he was.

Laying his Master gently down on his bed, he spread soft towels all around so that they were ensconced in a little nest. Then he took out a small rose-shaped jar and proceeded to spread scented oil all over his Master’s body, pausing to kiss Raizel at every interval: the curve of his hips, his collarbone, the tip of his jaw, and finally his waiting lips. They moved as one, sliding together like puzzle pieces perfectly matched. Frankenstein had obtained that rose oil in Turkey, where they had told him it was made from 30,000 roses. Covering his Master in 30,000 roses wasn’t nearly enough to express his love, but he would cover him in 100,000 roses if it meant keeping him alive just a little while longer.

Their kisses were long and languid, as if they had all the time in the world, which Frankenstein was painfully aware that they did not. But just for tonight they did, so as he made his way down his Master’s lithe body, he took his time, tasting each of his sensitive pink nipples with his tongue, brushing his lips slowly down the muscles of his abdomen, making him shiver. They had both been half-aroused since Raizel had first stepped into the shower, so when Frankenstein finally took his Master’s full length into his mouth, he stiffened immediately. Frankenstein hummed low in his throat, knowing exactly how to please his Master, and he was rewarded by Raizel fisting his hair and pulling hard, which sent Frankenstein into _raptures._ He would have come right then and there if he hadn’t been trained to hold back. His Master came first. Always.

Swallowing hard, he took his Master in even deeper, his hands grasping at Raizel’s slender hips. Deep-throating was something Frankenstein particularly excelled at, having had many, many years of practice. He knew how much his Master loved it, so he was slightly surprised to feel the quiet tug along their bond, like a mental whisper.

**_…frankenstein._ **

Pausing, he raised his eyes questioningly and was met with quite a sight. Raizel was flushed, his lips slightly parted, his cheeks burning, his red eyes softly glowing. For a moment Frankenstein was worried that he was using his powers, but then he realized that the glow wasn’t a conscious act at all: it was simply an outpouring of emotion. Their eyes met. **_Frankenstein. I want you inside me._**

Frankenstein nearly choked, but he recovered quickly, smoothly licking the underside of his Master’s cock before releasing him, causing Raizel to shudder all over. _Master. Are you sure?_ In answer, Raizel grabbed Frankenstein by the shoulders and slid directly underneath him, wrapping his legs around the small of his back. He then arched himself upwards, riding up against Frankenstein’s now very hard cock. Kissing him forcefully, he bit down on Frankenstein’s lower lip, ever so slightly drawing blood, then catching it with his small pink tongue. Their bond sparked to life like crimson fireworks. **_Do it._**  

 _Yes, Master._ Frankenstein complied immediately, reaching for the second bottle he brought out and coating his swollen cock slick with lube. When Raizel put his hand right on top of Frankenstein’s, stroking along with him, Frankenstein was seriously worried that he might explode. But he had had many, many nights of practice in this, his hands strapped tightly to the bedpost above him, completely at the mercy of his Master: **_Frankenstein. You don’t come until I give you permission to come. Is that understood?_** _Yes, Master._ Those times didn’t happen often, but when they did, Frankenstein experienced ecstasy and exhilaration like he’d never felt in his life.

But this, right now, with his Master underneath him, so supple and pliant, crying out for him softly, this was absolute bliss. Raizel made the tiniest of sounds when Frankenstein crooked his fingers gently inside him, tiny mewling noises, like a soft kitten begging to be petted, hesitant, just a hair’s breadth from silence. To Frankenstein, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Moving closer, he let his lips linger inches from his Master’s, knowing there was still blood dripping from them, and he swore he never saw Raizel’s eyes light up with such desire. Frankenstein kissed him hard, matching the movements of his tongue with that of his probing fingers, and Raizel arched his back, pulling Frankenstein’s hair in earnest: **_Do it_ now. _That’s an order._**

“Yes, Master,” he breathed as Raizel’s tiny wet tongue licked the remaining blood from his lips, making Frankenstein mad with thirst. Removing his fingers, he positioned himself above his Master and finally, blissfully entered deeply into him, carefully, tenderly. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him further.

But Raizel was having none of it. Arching his hips, he tightened his muscles around Frankenstein’s cock, driving him almost to the brink of insanity. **_Frankenstein. Where is the madman whom I love? Show him to me._**

 _Yes, Master._ Frankenstein grinned his most devious grin, purple sparks entwining with red. He started moving inside his Master in earnest, which is _all he had been wanting to do all week long,_ God, it was exhausting being himself at times. _This. This is all I want. This is all I’ve ever wanted._ There was a part of him that never calmed down until he was here, _right here_ , right on top of his Master, with their bodies literally entwined. This was the only time he didn’t worry, because he knew any enemy would have to literally go through him to get to Raizel, and if he was anything, he was damned hard to kill. _Just try it, you bastards. Just try getting near my Master. I’ll gut you from stem to stern._

From underneath, Raizel gave him one of his rare smiles and Frankenstein realized he’d unwittingly sped up his thrusts. **_There you are. My beautiful madman._** Raizel reached up to lovingly tuck a lock of Frankenstein’s tousled hair behind his ear.

Frankenstein leaned in for a breathy kiss as he altered his angle ever so slightly, watching Raizel carefully. He knew every inch of his Master, including exactly where his sweet spot was and how deep, how fast he had to go to drive Raizel straight over the edge. After all, as a scientist, he could be very, very precise. He knew he’d hit it just right when Raizel actually cried out, which was unusual for him. Frankenstein adjusted himself so that he could take his Master all the way home without having to pause once.

As he increased his speed and intensity, it was as if the air sizzled with energy, and Frankenstein felt _alive_ in a way that he hadn’t for a long time. Thrust after thrust his soul cried out to his Master: _I love you, I love you, I love you._ Raizel’s blown out red eyes answered him in kind. When he knew they were both on the verge, he reached out and stroked his Master’s cock in time with his thrusts, brushing his thumb over his sensitive tip. Once, twice, three times and his hand was coated with cream, his Master was an exquisite mess, and he came so hard he swore he caught a glimpse of Raizel’s beautiful red wings as he cried out, “Ah! _Master!”_

Waves of color and light washed over him as he tossed his head back, panting. Frankenstein had never seen anything in his life as beautiful as his Master in ecstasy. It was as if every magnificent Renaissance painting in the world were an ugly lie by comparison. His pale skin flushed, his dark hair askew, and even now, in his diminished state, he was so incredibly lovely that it brought tears rushing back to Frankenstein’s eyes. He quickly pulled out and curled up next to his beloved.

 _Master. I love you. Please don’t leave me. Please._ Frankenstein buried his face in his Master’s soft, warm neck and let his tears leak out, cursing himself for his weakness. Raizel made a sound in the back of his throat that was suspiciously like a purr.

 ** _Frankenstein. I love you. I would never knowingly leave you. You know this._** He kissed the top of Frankenstein’s head and wrapped his arms around him once again, stroking his back gently.

_I’m sorry, Master. I’m weak._

Raizel pulled back, facing him, his eyes still hazy. “Well, so am I, at the moment. I’m almost human. We make quite a pair, in fact.” His tiny smile returned. Frankenstein couldn’t help but smile back.

“Master? I want to ask you something.” Raizel waited expectantly. “Will you… will you stay in this form, for me? I know you feel that you have to change for the kids, but… when you’re home? With me? Let me care for you, like this. Please.” He pressed their foreheads together. _Please, Master. I beg of you._

“All right,” he said aloud and Frankenstein breathed a sigh of relief. “But you have to do something for me in return.”

“Anything, Master! Anything.” Frankenstein would walk to the ends of the earth for Raizel. He knew that.

“Please just ask me the next time you get the crazy idea that I’m planning to pack off to Lukedonia and move in with Raskreia?”

Frankenstein blushed to his roots. He buried his face in the towels, not even wanting to look at Raizel. _Yes, Master, I’m… I’m sorry._

A strange sound met his ears, like the tinkling of little bells. After a moment, he realized what it was and looked up in surprise: Raizel was _laughing._ Frankenstein couldn’t believe it! His Master hardly ever laughed! But there he was, his crimson eyes tinged with mirth.

“M-Master! W-what…? You never…!”

Raizel had hidden his head in a pillow, but he was clearly still giggling. “Really? _Raskreia?”_

Frankenstein couldn’t help it: he started snickering, too. It felt good, somehow, laughing with his Master at his own expense at the end of this crazy day. _Well, least I am a source of amusement._ Maybe his Master was acquiring more human traits in this in-between state that he was in? Making jokes, though. That was new. He had to remember to tell M-21. Then again, on second thought, maybe he’d just keep it to himself.

Frankenstein could tell that Raizel was already getting sleepy, so he took them quickly for second showers and more fluffy towels. Then he carefully dried his Master’s hair so he wouldn’t catch a chill, then put him in silk pajamas and tucked him into bed with lots and lots of blankets.

**_Frankenstein. If you add any more blankets, this will be like a coffin and I will go into the long sleep._ **

“What?? That can happen? Why didn’t you say…” Frankenstein had already started to remove blankets in a panic, but Raizel reached out and grasped his hand, giving it a quick double squeeze.

_You’re… you’re joking, aren’t you._

**_Yes. Frankenstein. Stop worrying and come to bed._ **

_Yes, Master._

Frankenstein smiled and slid into bed next to his Master. It was going to take him a while to get used to this. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here, Raizel was warm and safe, and they were together. He wrapped his arms protectively around his Master, burying his face in his soft, fragrant hair. Frankenstein’s larger form now completely eclipsed Raizel and this made Frankenstein feel profoundly safe. _I don’t care if I have to claw my way to Hell and back. I will protect you. I will save you. Fate be damned._


End file.
